Severed
by TheElementalWitch
Summary: When Yatai found herself stuck in Karakura Town, she thought it was a chance to start over. However what she found was an army of shinigami a problem for her cowardly sensei, a familar hollow, and of course the scariest kid she's ever met. Contains OC.


I don't know why I'm posting this and I'll probably scrap it soon

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, duh.

* * *

"The Chain of Fate is mankind's greatest gift. It is the physical representation of a man's life force, and some people say that if one looks close enough, it is etched with the triumphs and tragedies of his life…claim that a hollow's most excruciating agony is the moment a plus's Chain of Fate is completely destroyed…caused by the fact that the Chain of Fate is in fact like a finger print, when the Chain of Fate is lost it causes to spirit to lose their human identity…spirits rarely remember life on earth after arriving in the Soul Society because their identity has buried itself in their soul…cause of transformation into a hollow…if it were to be physically ripped from someone's chest, but they are able to keep their Chain, does their identity disappear?" Excerpts from the essay "Spiritual DNA?" by Suzuki Yatai.

I frowned as I pulled desperately on the hem of my new school uniform. Karakura High School female uniforms consist of a white dress shirt that's comparable to a piece of clear plastic wrap, a gray empire waist jacket, a gray miniskirt that comes up to about mid thigh, and a red neck tie. Add the schoolgirl socks and the "cute" little buckled shoes, and you feel like a child prostitute. Did I forget to mention that guys wear normal pants and shirts? Real fair huh?

"Hey Bibu, does this make me look as revealed as it makes me feel?" I turned away from the half unwrapped silver plate that was serving as my mirror to question the German Sheppard laying a few feet away. He looked up from _101 Famous Last Words_ and blinked sheepishly.

"What is that, a napkin?" His words were slightly slurred with surprise and, this is just a guess, hangover.

"No it's a skirt," I snapped before sliding into the kitchen next door, intent on finding something semi-edible for breakfast, "and I think it looks flattering on me."

"You look like someone tried to play dress up with a crane. I mean look at your legs hanging out like that!"

My scowl darkened as I looked down and realized that he was right, as usual. The lack of cloth did not compliment my too long, too skinny legs; I did look like a crane. "Just you wait; I bet there will be guys swooning all over me by the end of the week."

"And hollows will start teaching interior decorating classes." His growling, gravely tone made me giggle in spite of myself. I located some cold instant ramen from the night before.

I suppose your sitting here scratching your head and trying to figure out: why I'm worrying about a skirt, why I'm talking to a dog, and of course the big killer, why my dog is talking back. First off, I'm worried about the skirt because I'm expected to arrive at my new school in an outfit that shows more skin than it covers. I'm asking my dog about because he actually has a good fashion sense, despite all the macho manliness that is created by his laying around the house reading all day. That just leaves the final and most important question; my dog can talk back to me because he's not a dog.

Dogs can't communicate through human speech moron, seriously they can't. Bibu is actually a plus, a once human spirit, that was to cowardly to move on to the Soul Society. Instead of accepting the help of one of the many Soul Reapers who came after his ass, Bibu ran, screaming like a little girl. Then of course he found a dog, one of the dead variety to be exact, and decided to "relive his life". That's all I know, but the way he describes process of shoving a soul back into a body does not sound pleasant

The cold ramen wasn't great, but it worked. My tossed chopsticks missed the sink and landed floor will a rattle. However, I had more important things to deal with. "Bibu, watch the house, don't pee on the floor-"

"What did you just say!"

"I meant to say, don't let the doggy instincts take over," being in a dog's body for three years starts to wear your human perspective thin, "and try not to draw any attention to yourself or this house in general." Last time I left for to long the idiot decided to turn on my karaoke machine, all hell broke loose. Luckily the tabloids stopped calling after our lawyer threatened all kinds of legal pain.

Around the boxes, over the futon, through the door and out into the world…sprint back inside and grab me books from a smirking Bibu, back through the door. I have to give the founders credit, when they built Karakura they really knew how to landscape. My old apartment was deep in the heart of Tokyo where trees were a thing of myth. Around here the trees are on every corner, and there's honest to god grass, the soft kind that you roll around in.

The upgrade in lifestyle was much appreciated on my part, I mean it's not like my old home was horrible or anything, but the air was fresher here, that's probably why my mother jumped at the chance to move here. It was a little odd really, our transfer here, and if I were more paranoid I might actually look into it.

My mother is a nurse, nothing big or flashy but she helps save lives and people thank her for it. Contrary to what most people hope, helping people does not pay big unless you have a fancy degree. Sure we got by pretty well, but it wasn't the lifestyle my mother wanted for me. Then Ishida Ryuken showed up out of the blue.

He gave my mother everything, a new job, a real house, and a paycheck that almost blew our minds. Needless to say, she jumped at the chance like any sane woman would. She's happier now and all in all, the move was a good one, it made me feel semi-stable for a change. But it still leaves the mystery that is her employer.

I only met the guy once, but there is definitely something up with that man. His spiritual energy is…warped, and he's anything but a merry old doctor who just wants a little more love in the world. If my memory serves me correctly, we spent a majority of that meeting giving each other shifty eyed glances while my mother babbled nervously. My senses aren't as fine tuned as Bibu's, if they were I might be able to pinpoint the flaw in the spiritual pressure he released, but alas I haven't had 15 extra years to hone my skills.

"Hey watch it!" I jumped out of the way of a passing car like I was on springs. Maybe the drawback to living around here was the scary drivers; this was the fourth time I'd almost been taken out by a moving vehicle.

"They're called brakes; learn to use 'em!" The car was already gone, probably a good thing. Dying as a direct result of road rage or other form of tragedy involving a car would not only be extremely pathetic but also anticlimactic. My life isn't completely monotone contrary to what most people believe; I deserve to go out fighting at least. In retrospect the last sentence was not meant literally, fighting is both messy and painful, I know from experience. Of course I'll keep fighting, but dying while bleeding all over the place and trying to make stiff muscles move…that's in a completely different league.

Karakura High School is drab…That's the best way to describe it really. Big boxy buildings crammed into a tiny space, windows set so routinely that it look as though the walls themselves had been assembled in a factory. The only relief from the miniature city of gray stone and creamy glass was the grass, emerald green Karakura Town grass.

My partial filled stomach twisted as I stopped across the street from the school, watching the buzzing groups of students I felt ill for the second time since I've moved here (the first being when I met Ishida-shi). There was something wrong with this town, and this school was the home base of the imbalance in spirit pressure. I suppose that would translate more simply into: the most spiritually powerful citizens were here, in my school. That certainly put a damper my "stay quiet, stay down, and DO NOT purposely antagonize anyone who can whoop yours" plan, but the show must go on.

The walk across the street was something like heading towards the light at the end of the tunnel. I might as well have been wearing horse blinders. BBBEEEEEEEEPPP!! One second I was looking at the oncoming car, and the next I was flying.

Well not flying per say, as I found out when I was jerked suddenly from behind. The buttons popped from the front of my jacket in a shoe of gray plastic as something large grabbed my collar from behind. Instinctively I failed violently, the sharp edge of my right shoe slammed repeatedly into solid barrier of some type, but my savior/attacker made no noise.

I yelped as I was lifted higher like a rag doll and carried, surprisingly gently I might add, to the walkway were I was placed softly on my feet. My gut told me to turn and fight, so I did, or tried to anyway. As it turned out my definite savior had returned to the scene of the accident and was picking up my misplaced buttons with thick fingers that looked more like miniature tree stumps than actual human digits.

The sound of squealing tires and the smell of burning rubber caused me to stop staring stupidly, and rudely, at broad back in the middle of the street and concentrate on something else. The driver, a rather familiar and unpleasant looking rotund little man, was backing down the street at breakneck speed. Usually you would expect the driver to get out of the car and get angry or something after almost hitting me, but the massive hand shaped dent in the hood of the car had obviously made him decide otherwise.

"Holy…" The man had gotten up and for the first time I got a good look at one of the spiritually endowed that I would be dealing with. He was massive to say the least, at least two feet taller than me and more than five times as thick. The sleeves of his school uniform had been rolled up to reveal arms as wide as logs and colored to match. Even his spirit pressure seemed solid as a stone wall. A mop of dark curly hair hid his eyes from view, but I had a feeling that if I hadn't been of the verge of fleeing I would have melted into a puddle at his feet. What can I say, I'm somewhat of a romantic at heart, and the Prince Charming coming to the rescue thing was kind of nice for a girl who was used to cleaning up her own messes.

He handed me my buttons, tied up neatly in a little white handkerchief and gave a slight grunt. That shattered my pathetically thin romantic illusion, "Thanks for the help, I owe you a lot." I took the buttons and casually dropped them onto the pile of books that was wedged between my left arm and body. My right hand went out in a professional and practiced manner, "My name's Suzuki Yatai, I'm new to the town…I'm guessing you already figured that out."

"Yasutora Sado," his hand was bigger than I had first thought, completely engulfing my own palm and wrist, but once again surprising me, he didn't squeeze hard enough to cause pain.

"Yeah well, thanks again for help. I-"

"Hey Chad, who's that?"

* * *

Note: Names are written last name first, -shi is a suffix used to address professionals

Once again, I don't know why I'm posting this so please don't flame.


End file.
